


By the Strings

by Jam Blute (CrookedCompass)



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original Fiction, Originally Posted Elsewhere, POV Alternating, POV Original Character, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 16:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10994301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrookedCompass/pseuds/Jam%20Blute
Summary: For those born with abilities, there are only two choices: you're on the force or you're on their list.





	By the Strings

Dr. Daniel Mellon smiled from behind his fake wooden desk, his pale pink tie and gleaming buttons matching the atmosphere. A faint, pitiful excuse for cool jazz played overhead in the manicured office and a square glass reed diffuser filled the room with a light lavender aroma. How thoughtful, soothing music and aromatherapy for the ill-tempered problem case. Not that there was a window in the place. He was a security hazard, reckless, and aggressive... As if he would jump out of the window or smash it for a weapon. He was never without a weapon anyway. Denzil slouched further down, letting out a heavy breath. If he'd been more into denial, he would wonder what he ever did to deserve being stuck with this quack in a room no larger than a walk-in closet. Lucky him, he was fully aware of exactly what he'd done.

"It's been a while, Denzil," he chimed, pleasant and neutral as always. At least he was consistent. From the very first day they screened him, Dr. Mellon had been a smiling sunbeam of acceptance and eternal patience. Bait him, mock him, do whatever you wanted. He was a humane pillar of quiet support. Every other bossman here swore up and down he was the best for young and rookie soldiers because he was so calm. It made the nervous ones feel welcome in their servitude and kept the angry ones from getting worked up. But if the smiling mask couldn't be bothered to get mad at Denzil, he didn't really care what he did or how bad it got. It didn't matter as long as he followed the agency's protocol. Like they knew what they were doing with all of these powered types. Whatever they said, they could leave at the end of the day and go wherever. He couldn't. Denzil dropped his boot's heel on the far corner of the desk and rested his other leg across the first.

"Three months, exactly," he answered, cleaning out his eyes and wiping it on the desk. No response.

"And how has it been?" His hands were folded over on the desk. And he waited. Denzil scoffed, looking away from the good doctor to the potted plant across the room. It sat next to a few of those calming brainteaser knickknacks just screaming comfort and acceptance. God, everything in this place was fake and trying so damn hard.

Denzil shrugged.

The leather ergonomic chair creaked as Dr. Mellon leaned forward, his understanding smile right in place. "Remember the importance of communication, Denzil. Need I remind you how your last team disbanded?" He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. Chumming up to Denzil and being familiar to reverse engineer a friendship with him. Didn't he know he had nothing but time to research all these little "professional" tactics?

Denzil stared at the doctor and blinked once, slowly. He took his legs down and leaned forward to lean on the desk. Raising his left hand as the bone extended from his pointer finger, Denzil answered.

"Bone is stronger than eye tissue, Daniel." His hands flattened on the desk and the patience turned to quiet disapproval.

"Do you rehearse those expressions, or are you naturally a pretentious dick?" He smirked, retracting the bone and opening and closing his hand as the wound sealed up behind it. The real doctors in this place were the ones he needed to thank. The battery of pills he took each morning accelerated his healing, improved his bone density, and boosted his immune system through the roof. Without them, the ability to manipulate your own bones was just a fast way to shred yourself up. And hell, they cared when he messed up royally. Denzil had to guess that his care was expensive, although he was a ways off from the top ten. There were a few - the jelly man and walking death for starters - who definitely took rank over the human pin cushion.

"This is your final reassignment, Denzil." A cold wave rushed from his core out to his limbs and a trembling feeling followed it. "I'm sorry to say that, because I believe you can do better than-- Well." His standard smile returned and he seemed to look through Denzil's cold panic. "You know how this can go for you. But I'm confident that with dedication and Agent Moriarty's careful watch, you will come to all you can. Do you think you can do that, Denzil?"

He only slipped away a couple times before. There was this stupid festival, and he just wanted to see it. He barely remembered going as a kid. The rest of the team was never gonna let him go. So he snuck off, cheated on the games, and used the uniform to get free rides up until they found him. He took a sudden breath to steady himself. It wasn't over yet. They'd given him one more chance. "Of course I can do it. Don't be stupid, Daniel."

"Doctor," a deep, rounded voice came from behind him and he whipped around to see a mountain of a woman. She had a broad build, stocky and immovable, and a short fuzzy layer of hair. And he meant short-- even the hairs on his arm were longer. Denzil might've thought she was a man if not for the soft, delicate curves of her face. Dark eyes took him in and gave nothing away. A branch-like scar made a map of her left arm, but it looked no different from the right otherwise. "Our meeting."

"Your meeting," he corrected, gesturing to Denzil with a trademark smile. "We have a recruit for you to train. Much like your last, he will require a significant amount of your time and attention." His voice seemed distant and almost genuinely happy for a moment. "But I believe he'll be well worth--"

"The Moriarty? You mean from the top guy's kid, that M--"

"Yes," she cut him off. "Please continue, doctor."

"Thank you, Moriarty," he replied, eyes glittering at Denzil's silence when she talked over him. He answered with a scowl, sunk into the chair again, and kept quiet. The doctor was liking this too much, and the alternative... He'd rather not think about it. Didn't matter, it wasn't gonna happen. "I believe you can help Agent Moore here to reach his full potential and give back to the agency. Are you prepared for the task? I know your previous recruit can still be a handful at times."

"Aevin will be no trouble." She answered promptly, but not hurriedly. A perfect balance. She was just like the rumors said, but he'd thought they were all overblown lies. Moriarty didn't grow up here like he did, and she somehow lived and breathed the agency. Denzil never met anyone with such quiet command in one go. "And neither will Moore." It wasn't a threat. Just an observation. But he nodded and Dr. Mellon clasped his hands together with a dry thud.

"Perfect! Thank you, Moriarty. We would be truly lost without you."

**Author's Note:**

> Want more of my original characters? Find me on the Original Character Amino: http://aminoapps.com/popular/OriginalCharacter
> 
> Craving more cosplay and panel updates? Find me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jamblute
> 
> Thanks for reading, and comment with any of your thoughts! All of them. They sustain me.


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